


Some Words Mean More Than Others

by keiththepaladin



Category: Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-28
Updated: 2016-03-28
Packaged: 2018-05-29 14:55:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6380734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keiththepaladin/pseuds/keiththepaladin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alternative ending to CoHF, in which Isabelle lost more than just Simon whilst in the demon realms</p>
            </blockquote>





	Some Words Mean More Than Others

**Author's Note:**

> I put this on my Tumblr few months ago, but I thought I should upload it here as well!

Isabelle gave herself a look in the full-length mirror hanging on the wall, before letting a long sigh escape her lips. She took in her own appearance; scarlet-painted lips, hair flowing over her shoulders, long green dress that went just past her knee, and a piece of metal holding her together. She was slowly becoming accustomed to it, but it was taking it’s time.

A knock sounded on her door, snapping her out of her thoughts. “Izzy, its Alec,” she knew that, she wanted to say, I can tell by your voice. But she didn’t say a word. “Are you okay?”

She didn’t want him to hear her voice inevitably crack when she answered him, like it does every time she speaks. So many people had told her that it was going to be okay, but it wasn’t what she wanted to hear.

“Izzy?”

“I’m okay. Don’t come in.” She didn’t think she could bear having her brother look at her like she was wounded again.

“We have to leave soon, Izzy. Will you be ready? Do you need help?”

Her voice became cold, her pride getting the better of her “I can manage perfectly fine on my own, Alexander. I will meet you at the door in a few minutes.” He didn’t respond, but she heard him walking away. She almost wanted to apologize. Almost. A part of herself wouldn’t allow her to do it. 

As soon as she knew she was alone, she walked, tripping a few times, right up to the mirror, and running one of her pale, scarred hands down her leg. The coldness of the metal was all she felt. 

It had been days, and she still wasn’t used to the fake limb. 

Another knock sounded on her door. Isabelle only responded by screaming “I said I don’t need your help Alec!” and throwing the first item she could get her hands on, a wooden box, right at the door. As soon as the rage left her body, every emotion she had been hiding since she had gotten back from Edom came pouring out.   
Pain, grief, sadness and loss. Over herself over Simon, and over their innocence. 

The sobs uncontrollably started, without Isabelle even realising it. It was then that the wooden door opened, revealing someone who wasn’t Alec.

Clary. 

As soon as she saw the state Isabelle was in, Clary rushed over to her, engulfing her in a hug. She offered Isabelle a tissue from her backpack, before leading her over to the bed, and sitting with her on the edge of it. Her fiery hair was in a bun atop her head, so you could clearly see her whole face. 

Clary held Isabelle for what felt like forever, but was only a few minutes. She kept muttering things to her like; “You’re alright.” Or “It will be okay.”

When Isabelle sat up, with lines of makeup streaking her pale face, she looked down, embarrassed by her previous actions. The screaming, the crying, it just wasn’t her. 

“It’s okay to break, Izzy.” Clary said, looking at her. “You’ve been through so much, and you have every right in the world to break down, if even for a moment. The Angel knows if anyone deserves a moment to themselves, it’s you.” 

Isabelle looked up at this, a puzzled expression crossing her face.

“Don’t look at me like that, it’s true.”

“I don’t want your pity.” It came out as more of a squeak.

“That’s not what I’m saying, Isabelle. I’m trying to say that beating yourself up over your own misery is only going to make it worse for yourself.”

“You don’t understand, Clary.”

“Of course I don’t. Only you do. But you can help me to understand.” Clary brushed all of Isabelle’s dark hair out of her face. “Tell me what’s happening in your head.”

Isabelle visibly hesitated before she started; “I feel useless, Clary. I can barely walk a metre without tripping over. I can’t help anyone, not even myself. And I can’t stand to see people look at me like I’m wounded, or broken. I don’t want to be. I want to be okay.” She was fighting the tears that were threatening to spill down her face. She wasn’t going to cry again. Not now. “Simon’s gone,” that was hard to say. “And of he’s gone, then there’s nothing good in this world, Clary! He was such a bright light in a dark time, and now he’s gone. And it’s like I’ve been plunged into this darkness, and to be honest with you, I don’t think I understand it myself.”

Clary had a contemplative look on her face, as though she was trying to choose the perfect thing to say. It was then that she opened her mouth; “I know it’s hard, Izzy. Anyone would know that. But you’ve got to hold on, to keep going. People expect the best from you, they always will, and that’s what you’ve got to show them. Show them you’re not afraid, that you can do this. Show them what Isabelle Lightwood is all about.”

Izzy pondered Clary’s words for a moment, not speaking. Clary took it as a queue to continue; “And you’re never alone, remember that. Certain people,” her voice cracked for a moment. They were both thinking about the same person. About Simon. But the hesitation only lasted for a fraction of a second. “Certain people may not be around, but you still have so many others. Alec would do anything for you, as would Jace. And I’m always here as well,” Clary said, holding Isabelle’s hands in her own. “Always.”

Isabelle took a deep breath, before looking down at her leg. Clary noticed.

“Catarina did a great job, didn’t she?”

“She did.”

Isabelle then looked up at Clary, startling the red-head with the sudden movement. 

“I want you to promise me something.”

“Of course, what can I do for you?” Clary replied, her eyebrows furrowing. 

“I want you to train with me, soon. So I can get stronger again.” The words put a smile on Clary’s face.

“I’d be delighted to, Isabelle.” She looked down at her watch, “Now, I better go, or I’m going to be late to Magnus’ party! Are you coming?”

And with Clary’s question, a smile was plastered on Isabelle’s lips, fake or not, Clary couldn’t tell. She slowly got off of the bed, stumbling a little at the end. She stood up to her full height, and adjusted her dress.

“Of course.”


End file.
